66 A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. So shall all the couples three And the blots of Nature's hand Shall upon their children be. And each several chamber bless, And the owner of it, blest, Ever shall in safety rest. Trip away; make no stay; Meet me all by break of day. ACT IV. [Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and Train. Puck. If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, - Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,21 We will make amends ere long;. Else the Puck a liar call: So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands,22 if we be friends, [Exit. 20 Puck, it seems, was a suspicious name, which makes that this merry. mischievous gentleman does well to assert his honesty. As for the name itself, it was no better than fiend or devil. In Pierce Ploughman's Vision, one personage is called helle Pouke. And the name thus occurs in Spenser's Epithalamion: "Ne let the pouke, nor other evill sprights, Ne let mischievous witches with theyr charmes, 21 Honest Puck, it seems, has a mortal dread of being hissed. INTRODUCTION TO MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. THIS HIS play was entered at the Stationers' in August, 1600, and was published in quarto the same year, with the words, "As it hath been sundry times publicly acted," in the title-page; which would naturally infer the piece to have been written in 1599. All the internal marks of style bear in favour of the same date; the play being in this respect hardly distinguishable from As You Like It. After the one quarto of 1600, the play is not met with again till it reappeared in the folio of 1623. As the text of the folio differs but in two or three slight particulars from that of the quarto, the probability is that the later was reprinted from the earlier copy. And perhaps none of the Poet's plays has reached us in a more satisfactory state; the printing being such as to leave little room for doubt as to the true text. As with many of the author's plays, the plot and story of Much Ado About Nothing were partly borrowed. But the same matter had been so often borrowed before, and run into so many variations, that we cannot affirm with certainty from what source the Poet directly drew. So much of the story as relates to Hero, Claudio, and Don John, bears a strong resemblance to the tale of Ariodante and Ginevra in the fifth and sixth books of Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. Still there is little if any likelihood that the Poet took his borrowed matter from that source. A connection between the play and one of Bandello's novels is much more distinctly traceable from the similarity of names and incidents. In the novel, Fenicia, the daughter of Lionato, a gentleman of Messina, is betrothed to Timbreo de Cardona, a friend of Piero d'Aragona. Girondo, a 'disappointed lover of the lady, goes to work to prevent the marriage. He insinuates to Timbreo that she is disloyal, and then to make good the charge arranges to have his own hired servant in the dress of a gentleman ascend by a ladder of ropes and enter the house of Lionato at night, Timbreo being placed so as to witness the proceeding. The next morning Timbreo accuses the lady to her father, and rejects the alliance. Fenicia sinks down in a swoon; a dangerous illness follows; and, to prevent the shame of her alleged trespass, Lionato has it given out that she is dead, and a public funeral is held in confirmation of that report. Thereupon Girondo becomes so harrowed with remorse, that he confesses his villany to Timbreo, and they both throw themselves on the mercy of the lady's family. Timbreo is easily forgiven, and the reconciliation is soon followed by the discovery that the lady is still alive, and by the marriage of the parties. This brief statement marks the nature and extent of Shakespeare's obligation to Bandello. The parts of Benedick and Beatrice, of Dogberry and Verges, and of several other persons, are altogether original with him; at least no traces of them have been found in any other book or writing: so that he stands responsible for all the wit and humour, and for nearly all the character, of the play. As no translation of Bandello has been discovered of so early a date as the play, it does not well appear how the Poet could have become acquainted with the novel except in the original. But the Italian was then the most generally studied language in Europe; educated Englishmen were probably quite as apt to be familiar with it as they are with the French in our day; Shakespeare, at the time of writing this play, was thirty-five years old; and we have many indications of his having known enough of Italian to be able to read such a story as Bandello's in that language. The play has a large variety of interest, now running into grotesque drollery, now bordering upon the sphere of tragic elevation, now revelling in the most sparkling brilliancy. The piece is indeed aptly named: we have several nothings, each in its turn occasioning a deal of stir and perturbation: yet there is so much of real flavour and spirit stirred out into effect, that the littleness of the occasions is scarcely felt or observed; the thoughts being far more drawn to the persons who make the much ado than to the nothing about which the much ado is made. The excellencies, however, both of plot and character, are rather of the striking sort, involving little of that hidden or retiring beauty which shows just enough on the surface to invite a diligent search, and then enriches the seeker with generous returns. Accordingly the play has always been very effective on the stage; the points and situations being so shaped and ordered that, with fair acting, they tell at once on an average audience; while at the same time there is enough of solid substance beneath to justify and support the first impression; so that the stage-effect is withal legitimate and sound as well as quick and taking. On the general character of the play, I have met with no remarks better suited to the purpose of this Introduction than Schlegel's. "The mode," says he, "in which the innocent Hero, before the altar at the moment of the marriage, and in the presence of her family and many witnesses, is put to shame by a most degrading charge, false indeed, yet clothed with every appearance of truth, is a grand piece of theatrical effect in the true and justifiable sense. The impression would have been too tragical, had not Shakespeare carefully softened it in order to prepare for a fortunate catastrophe. The discovery of the plot against Hero has been already partly made, though not by the persons interested; and the Poet has contrived, by means of the blundering simplicity of a couple of constables and watchmen, to convert the arrest and examination of the guilty individuals into scenes full of the most delightful amusement. There is also a second piece of theatrical effect not inferior to the first, where Claudio, now convinced of his error, and in obedience to the penance laid on his fault, thinking to give his hand to a relative of his injured bride, whom he supposes dead, discovers, on her unmasking, Hero herself. The extraordinary success of this play in Shakespeare's own day, and ever since in England, is, however, to be ascribed more particularly to the parts of Benedick and Beatrice, two humoursome beings, who incessantly attack each other with all the resources of raillery. Avowed rebels to love, they are both entangled in its nets by a merry plot of their friends to make them believe that each is the object of the secret passion of the other. Some one or other, not overstocked with penetration, has objected to the same artifice being twice used in entrapping them the drollery, however, lies in the very symmetry of the deception. Their friends attribute the whole effect to their own device; but the exclusive direction of their raillery against each other is in itself proof of a growing inclination. Their witty vivacity does not abandon them even in their avowal of love; and their behaviour only assumes a serious appearance for the purpose of defending the slandered Hero. This is exceedingly well imagined: the lovers of jesting must fix a point beyond which they are not to indulge their humour, if they would not be mistaken for buffoons by trade." MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. PERSONS REPRESENTED. DON PEDRO, Prince of Arragon. LEONATO, Governor of Messina. BALTHAZAR, Servant to Don Pedro. HERO, Daughter to Leonato. MARGARET, Gentlewomen attending Messengers, Watchmen, and Attendants. SCENE, Messina. ACT I. SCENE I. Messina. Before LEONATO's House. Enter LEONATO, HERO, BEATRICE, with a Messenger. Leon. I learn in this letter that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina. Mess. He is very near by this: he was not three leagues off when I left him. Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. Leon. A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio. Mess. Much deserv'd on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro. He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age; doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better better'd expectation than you must expect of me to tell you how. Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not show itself modest enough without a badge of bitterness.1 Leon. Did he break out into tears? Mess. In great measure. Leon. A kind overflow of kindness: there are no faces 1 This is an idea which Shakespeare apparently delighted to introduce. It occurs in Macbeth: "My plenteous joys, wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves in drops of sorrow." truer than those that are so wash'd. How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping! Beat. I pray you, is Signior Montanto 2 return'd from the wars or no? Mess. I know none of that name, lady: there was none such in the army of any sort.3 Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece? 4 Hero. My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. Mess. O, he's return'd; and as pleasant as ever he was. Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and challeng'd Cupid at the flight; 5 and my uncle's Fool, reading the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the birdbolt. — I pray you, how many hath he kill'd and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he kill'd? for indeed I promis'd to eat all of his killing. Leon. Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it: he is a very valiant trencher-man; he hath an excellent stomach. Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. Beat. And a good soldier to a lady :—but what is he to a lord? Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuff'd with all honourable virtues. Beat. It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuff'd man: but for the stuffing,— well, we are all mortal. Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her: they never meet but there's a skirmish of wit between them. Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that! In our last conflict 2 Montanto is an old term of the fencing-school, humorously or sarcastically applied here in the sense of a bravado. Sort is here used in the sense of rank. So in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, iii. 2: "None of nobler sort would so offend a virgin;” and in Measure for Measure, iv. 4: "Give notice to such men of sort and suit as are to meet him." 4 This phrase was in common use for affixing a printed notice in some public place, long before Shakespeare's time, and long after. 5 The flight was a long, slender, sharp arrow, such as Cupid shot with; so called because used for flying long distances, and to distinguish it from the bird-bolt, a short, thick, blunt arrow, used in a lower kind of archery, and permitted to fools. "A fool's bolt is soon shot," is an old proverb. See vol. i. page 186, note 7. "He 6 He'll be even with you; or, as we should say, he'll be up with you. 7 Mede,, in his Discourses on Scripture, speaking of Adam, says, whom God had stuffed with so many excellent qualities." Beatrice starts an idea at the words stuffed man, and prudently checks herself in the pursuit of it, as leading to an indelicate allusion. |